Orion's Light
by Clez
Summary: Is Allan Quatermain really gone? Or is he up there somewhere, watching us? What does he do with his eternal days now that he has passed from our world? Drabble Style.


**Author's Note:** This was a request on by Lady Norbert. Granted, I asked for the requests, but only to get me off my lazy backside. I had a bitch of a line to work with, and not much time/space to do it in, so be lenient with me?

* * *

In a vast void of darkness, it is difficult to tell one constellation from another; one star from the next; one far off planet melds with the one beside it in one giant, interstellar blur, and to the untrained eye, there is nothing spectacular about such a collection of 'little dots'. But there is so much more to discover and to learn. It takes many years to unravel the wonders of the universe and decipher its mysteries, as abundant as they are. Scholars have been theorising for years, and yet still… it is an enigma; perhaps it forever will be.

And yet there are a few certainties in those heavens, where they say our futures can be told in the lines of stars and how they all seem to fit together like some black and white jigsaw puzzle, the pieces so small that in the blink of an eye, one could be lost.

One such certainty brought an old man comfort as he gazed, almost longingly. He had heard it spoken to him before, and only now did he take it to heart and respect it for what it really was.

"The hunter Orion is seen over the northern hemisphere every winter, constantly watching over the world."

A hunter he was… Orion, he was not. He had lost his place; some would say he had lost his way. But he did not believe that. He had found a way to pass his days – as eternal as they were now – and though he was forever filled with a melancholy, he had found a small semblance of peace in his crossing.

Allan Quatermain's ever-keen eyes pierced through the mass of the void, and he saw them. It was, indeed, winter. Snow had fallen all around, and had coated everything, giving it a false innocence and purity that he would never truly understand, even in his passing. He watched their faces, tried to read whether or not their apparent content was false, and comprehend what they had done since he had left them.

She was ever pensive; her eyes cutting through the snow as it fell, her veil over her face, and the faintest of seemingly-happy smiles on her full lips as she watched the goings on. Mina Harker laughed quietly. Beside her stood a rather snug-looking Henry Jekyll, who rubbed at his arms to keep in the warmth that wished to escape his wrapped up limbs. Nemo was on the other side of him, ever regal and presentable in his blue attire, turban neat on his head, and sword only for decoration in the time of placidity. And in the snow, odd as it was, battled Rodney Skinner and Tom Sawyer, laughing and throwing balls of the compact substance at one another. Skinner's coat was whiter than his face, and Mina could not help but laugh as Tom pelted the thief in the back with a ball as he turned to hide.

"Oi!" Allan faintly heard the thief laugh with a grumble, and then smiled whimsically himself. He sighed longingly, and wished to be among them in their tranquillity. But it could not be so.

And he missed them… for what it was worth. At the time, he had grumbled and foul-mouthed and been as cynical as he could be, but the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ truly had been a home to him… one he could never have imagined after all his loss and years of grief. Two wives; many lovers; his own son… what hope had he ever had of happiness?

Mina had brought him a kind of calm he had never known. Jekyll had shown him kindness. Nemo had brought understanding and shown him the meaning and value of wisdom. Skinner had brought Allan's humour to the surface once again, when the old hunter had thought it dead years ago. And young Sawyer had been like a second son to him after the loss of Harry. No one could have replaced his child, but Sawyer had come close. An excellent pupil and a fiery spirit… Sawyer had a great future ahead of him.

"The hunter Orion…" he mumbled as a shadow passed over him.

The person behind him smiled, touching a hand to the weary shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze, and in their young lilted voice, said in conclusion, "… Watching over the world."


End file.
